


friend

by buries



Series: 100 word prompt fills [6]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 18:44:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13172928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buries/pseuds/buries
Summary: now, as much as i like you, frosty … you’re only around because of caitlin. you get me?or the one where amunet black puts killer frost in her place -- in a friendly way, of course.





	friend

**Author's Note:**

> this is my attempt to get back into writing! based on the prompt "friend", given to me by the lovely mary, this stems from my obsession with amunet black in _the flash_ 's fourth season. this takes place pre-season 4. it's meant to give just a snapshot of the possible working relationship between killer frost and amunet black, as well as the relationship between killer frost and caitlin snow. the gothamite reference is to _gotham_ 's season two, mr freeze.
> 
> this is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine. thanks for reading.

The Blacksmith slurps her iced mocha. “Hmm.”

Her hands are undoubtedly wet, but they're not as wet as her own.

Her fingers slip against the smooth casing. It doesn’t help her fingers are frozen solid, with bits of ice flaking on the tips in irritation. Killer Frost refuses to acknowledge it’s fright. She doesn’t feel fright. It’s what the other part of her feels, the lesser, weaker, more human part.

Frost prickles on her skin, the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand up immediately. “Hmmm.”

Killer Frost sits at Amunet’s table, her fingers trying to grasp the hard drive in front of her. For the last few days, she’s attempted to reverse her powers — to unfreeze the frozen — but, despite her best attempts to inform her thick-headed boss it won’t work, she keeps coming back here in an attempt to make the impossible possible.

It’s what he used to say, when he was here.

He never said this is how to do it — sitting in the dark with the Blacksmith hovering like a bad stench of smoke.

Another slurp, followed by an intentional lick of her lips. Killer Frost continues to ignore her.

“ _Hmmm._ ”

Killer Frost rolls her eyes. Pushing her shoulders up, she lets her hands slide away from the hard drive she’s been working on. That had been a bad idea, but she doesn’t care. She never does. 

Sharply, she spits, “What?”

“Oh,” gasps Amunet, hand pressing against the base of her throat. “Oh, deary, it was _nothing_.” Killer Frost doesn’t offer her a glance. Hands returning to the black box, she runs her fingers over the ice, glued on the plastic like it’s thick netting.

_One … two …_

Her hands slip against its slick surface. She doesn't know how her hands are meant to be any better than the Blacksmith's, but ice can forge ice, just as it can break it. Or something. Crazy woman logic.

“ _Except_ ,” Amunet draws out the two syllables into what feels like ten. With her hand pointed in the air, black nails digging into her palm, she points to the sky like it’ll strike her down.

Killer Frost hopes it does.

“I mean, it’s none of my business, of course,” she begins, her heels clicking on the ground as she circles her. When Killer Frost counts the steps, they sound neat and tidy, with an intentional rhythm. _One, two. One, two._ Sometimes she catches Caitlin — it’s never herself — wondering if Amunet had been a creative woman. Had she been a dancer before the particle accelerator had transformed her into this?

“ _But_ …” The _t_ is sharp in the air as it lingers, much like the chill of her own breath.

Amunet waits, looking at Killer Frost expectantly. Her eyes pierce through her like the metal of her makeshift fist. Caitlin’s asleep, but she can feel her stirring, her anxiety so palpable it might as well start a snowstorm.

Killer Frost sighs. Annoyed, she prompts, “But?”

“Oh,” Amunet shakes her head. “It’s silly. A silly little thought I had …” 

‘Silly’ is hardly a word Killer Frost would use to describe Amunet Black. Selfish. Manipulative. A little bit brilliant. Once upon a time, she had made the mistake of telling her that. Amunet’s idea of friendship had only intensified since.

Circling her like a shark, Killer Frost keeps her head down. The desire to act impulsively, to be Caitlin Snow, sits heavily in her chest. She’d look up. She’d push her chair back slightly. She’d hide her hands, glittery with a thin layer of frost. Killer Frost does none of that. She remains unaffected.

She is unaffected.

Amunet spins on her heel to face her. Hands clapping together, she leaves her fingers tented as she looks at her with narrowed eyes. “Why does a girl like you keep speaking of these alleged friends you have? Hm?”

Killer Frost feels the ice within her crackle. It isn’t from anger. It’s as though Caitlin’s alive inside of her, snapping the tips of each icicle she has created and seared into Caitlin Snow’s cage. Like Sleeping Beauty, she never opens her eyes, but Killer Frost wonders if they had left out a very important note from that story.

Something stirs inside of her. This feral need to protect.

Amunet places her iced mocha on the edge of the table. “This … what’s his name again? Is it Bart?”

Between gritted teeth, she says, “Barry.”

“Right, right.” Amunet nods her head. Killer Frost knows she’s not listening. “And the other … Was it Rose?”

“Iris,” Killer Frost answers, purposefully sounding bored.

“Right, right. That’s it. Sounds right.” Pressing her finger to her chin, she purses her lips and waits a moment. Killer Frost can hear her hum. “Are they what _you_ would call friends?”

“No.” Her voice echoes.

“No?”

“ _No._ ”

“Alrighty, alright. No need to be cutting with me, Chilly. I thought I’d ask. There’s so much to know about one another, isn’t there? With us being _gal pals_ —”

“We’re not friends, Amunet,” Killer Frost snaps. Her fingers begin to crackle. With a deep breath in, she centres herself. It’s a trick she learned from Caitlin. “ _I_ don’t have friends.”

Her smile only widens. “Oh, yes. I forgot. You’re still pretending you’re not Caitlin Snow, aren’t you?” She shakes her head, tutting. “Darling, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Hmm?” 

She doesn’t speak immediately. With the lack of clicking around Amunet, Killer Frost finds herself frightened. Heart hammering in her chest, it echoes like it would in an ice cave.

Amunet comes closer towards her, almost in a little skip. She doesn't speak until Killer Frost tilts her head up. “One day, you will wake up and realise I did not ask you to be my special friend because of you and your …” Eyes travelling up and down her, she clicks her fingers, searching for a word. Once she settles on it, she licks her lips and continues, a little uncertainly, “Well … I didn’t hire you for your incredible sense of style.”

“You didn’t hire _me_.”

“You’re catching on!” She claps her hands together, almost jumping on the spot. The smile spread across Amunet’s face almost makes her look human. “Good, good. Excellent. You’re right. I didn’t hire _you_.” Amunet’s smile stretches until it looks like it’ll tear. “I hired Caity. And Caity hired you. Now, as much as I like you, Frosty … You’re only around because of Caitlin. You get me?”

Keeping her expression as blank as she possibly can, she knows she fails. Caitlin has always been good at pretending. Killer Frost has always worn her emotions on her sleeve. It seeps out of her eventually, much like ice melting into water.

Amunet looks at her, eyes slightly narrowing, before she seems to quietly surmise her audience won’t give her the response she wants.

“See … Caitlin Snow is very important to me. And it isn’t for her better style, even though it could do with some work, or even for those adorable Bambi eyes … Caitlin Snow is special. Very special. You would do well to learn from her.”

Turning her lip up in disgust, Killer Frost releases her clenched fists. Frost crackles and drifts to the ground, melting instantly.

“You see,” Amunet slithers closer to her in one step. “Caity is quite remarkable. And you …” It’s then Amunet’s lip turns up, her hands gesturing up and down Killer Frost’s body. “If it wasn’t for the passenger asleep in the backseat, you wouldn’t be here. I can always get myself another Elsa. I mean, there’s plenty around! The Gothamites love their freezers. So I’ve been told, anyway. Their newspaper headlines aren’t quite as catchy.”

Killer Frost’s chair scrapes back angrily. Amunet doesn’t take a step backward as she stands. Steam stems from her hand as the ice begins to scream on her fingers.

Amunet’s gaze lowers to her curled fingers. “Oh,” she says, smiling. “Hello. I doubt you need me to tell you to be careful with how you proceed. We’re friends, aren’t we? That’s something you ought to remember.”

Rather than turning on her heel, or even backing away, Amunet approaches. The ice begins to thicken on Killer Frost's skin, steaming from her neck and nose. This doesn’t deter Amunet. Not much does. The dark is her friend, just as the light is. Thriving in the heat, she survives even in the snow.

It’s what makes her very, very frightening. She can survive as anybody, anywhere. Killer Frost can’t.

Caitlin can’t.

Until she’s almost nose to nose with her, Amunet smiles, as sharp as the metal pieces of her arm. “We’re very good friends, Caity and I. Here I am, standing next to you without my bucket of deadly metal. Even then, you wouldn’t be able to kill me. Caity wouldn’t allow it.” She takes a step backward. As soon as she does, Killer Frost breathes once again.

Amunet raises her hand, touching Killer Frost’s face. She flinches. “You’d be wise to remember that,” she murmurs. Her hand lowers, her brow arching. The corner of her lip curves upward as she gives her a once-over. Killer Frost doesn’t understand why she feels exposed until she hears Amunet finish, “Caitlin.”

The ice layer on the hard drive crackles and grows, wrapping like vines around the case. All that hard work of Amunet’s to defrost it is gone.

Killer Frost notices how Amunet’s eyes glance down for one moment. 

Then she smiles.

“I want that defrosted by dinner. I have a very important friend who needs it.” Her hands tent together in front of her, almost like she’s praying. Killer Frost doubts it’s for the success of the hard drive’s recovery. Retrieving her iced mocha, Amunet slurps it. “Do that for me, Besty?”

With a skip to her step, Amunet leaves her alone in the dark basement. When she hears her footsteps fade, she releases her hands from being clenched into tight ice balls. Fingers caked in a thick layer of ice, it crackles when she flexes them, and the frost on the table shimmers as it dissipates. Shooting a blast at the wall, the ice sculpture she's made stares at her, mocking her.

Letting her shoulders sag, Caitlin finally breathes, then gets back to work.


End file.
